Chapter Text
It’s a thing. It's Carla's thing that is.
The force in which she always puts her keys down on the breakfast bar and now their kitchen island with as much force as possible.
Others may kick off their shoes when coming home or change into pyjamas, not Carla. It's her keys. The clanging echoing off all the hard surfaces. That reassuring noise alerting (summoning) everyone that she's home and needs a brew, a kiss, a hug, and a laugh, not necessarily in that order.
